Arrangements of the Hart
by happy76mrwhal
Summary: Maya Hart has been betrothed to Lucas Friar since before she was born.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Her powder blue eyes skirted up and down a crinkly sheet of paper in her hand, for what had to be the eightieth time.

"This is preposterous," she thrusted the paper back into the hand of the man behind the desk.

"How could anyone in their right mind make an agreement like that?" She said.

The man was probably thinking the same thing.

He sighed, shoulders slumping into the plush of his chair. He looked tired of discussing this with her both because she was giving him a hard time and, perhaps, because the contents of the fifty year old letter saddened him as much as it had her.

She didn't dwell on the thought much- she didn't want to. She wanted to pity herself, even if for just a few minutes more. It wasn't as freeing as she thought it would be. And the kicking of the baby inside her wasn't helping.

"Look, Mrs. Hart, i get that it's confusing and a little ridiculous, But-"

"A little?" She scoffed. "It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I won't be apart of it." But She knew she couldn't escape it.

"But you already are Mrs.-"

"Just call me Katy, please." She said, leaning her weight onto the arm of her chair.

"Katy, your husband's great grandfather signed this paper. By doing that he agreed that his firstborn daughter would marry the late Wyatt Friar's youngest son-"

He was using that voice, measured and slow like she was too dim witted to understand him. it annoyed her. She knew she had no right to feel that way since that was the exact picture of a person she was painting for him, but she was angered all the same.

"I know, I know. Donavon's daughter was excused because of a blood disease." She recited. They'd only been through it six times. That annoyed her too.

"Yes. And then Donavon's granddaughter was put into the betrothal instead-"

"But she fled the country with another man. We've been over this already."

She was becoming tired of this story and the fact that he wouldn't stop telling it. As if saying it enough times would make it appropriate, or sensible, or anything she'd ever want to be involved in.

"Yes. His great granddaughter was also excused because of her mental disorder." He continued.

"That's why your daughter- Donavan's great great granddaughter-was automatically placed in the betrothal with the youngest great great grandson of Wyatt Friar."

She mouthed the last sentence with him, causing him to huff in annoyance.

Katy pressed her mouth into a tight line. Silent, boiling anger bubbled underneath her skin, bringing a warmth to her face that made her feel like crying. But Katy Hart was good at hiding those feeling. Good at putting on a mask that didn't let anyone know what she was thinking. So she spoke calmly.

"My daughter isn't born yet."

He ran a hand through his hair, his face helpless.

"That's alright," Katy thought. She hadn't wanted an answer. She was just stating a fact. The fact that she failed her daughter before she was born. She turned her eyes away.

"If I still don't want to?" She asked.

"According to the legal document that was signed in addition to the original agreement, the Friar family can demand one-hundred grand from you." He said softly. He knew it was over as well as she did. He knew she couldn't beat it. She let her head hang, chin touching her chest, as she felt the spot her baby kicked all the time. She kicked the exact spot, as if reaching for her mother's hand with her foot.

I'm sorry, she thought to the child. I'm so sorry.

She thought it over and over again.

She didn't know how long she had sat there, or that the man had left her with words of sympathy. She didn't know she was crying until the cold breeze from outside swept in through the window cracks, cooling her wet cheeks.

She started, feeling embarrassed, but she saw she was alone.

She sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

A Manila folder was left opened in front of her on the dark wooden desk, and she took it in her hands.

'Friar' it said on the front. She stared at the name for a long time, imagining how it would look with her daughter's name in front of it. It didn't sound bad, she admitted to herself, but she didn't like it. It made a bad taste form on her tongue.

She opened the folder and rested the edge on her round belly. Andrew and Maryellen Friar were the names of parents to the little boy who would marry her daughter. Maryellen had bright brown eyes, and a smile that made her eyes crinkle.

But Katy didn't smile back.

Andrew Friar's face was all angles and roughness, but the tiniest lift of his lips suggested that he was softer on the inside.

Katy didn't feel like lifting her lips or being soft. She wanted this family to never exist.

'What do the Friars think of this?' She thought.

After all, she wasn't the only one who's child had suddenly lost the freedom to fall in love on their own. She wondered how they were taking it. Not much better than her, she imagined. She felt a pang of sympathy. Their families were both stuck in the same situation and feeling the same pain. Surely they could go through life civilly, right? They didn't have to like her and she didn't have to like them particularly, but they could be cordial. For their children's sake if nothing else. She continued to stare at their pictures. She had sympathy for them yes, but 'liking' them was a steep hill to climb. She sighed, dropping the folder onto the desk. The baby kicked her, hard, from inside.

"Ok, ok," Katy picked up the folder once more. "I'll try to like them, alright? Try. No Guarantee though." She didn't feel another kick, so she assumed her daughter heard and agreed. Opening the folder again she knew she had one last thing to read and look at. The Friars son. The one who would marry her daughter. She didn't want to read about him, or look at him. But she did have to make sure he didn't look bratty. She couldn't stand a bratty child who always threw tantrums if they didn't get what they wanted.

"If this child is anything less than perfect I'm-" Katy stopped her sentence.

It might sound impossible, but the baby did look perfect. Or something very close to it, Katy had to admit.

He had green eyes that captured her, and a fluff of light chocolate hair on the top of his head. His two-toothed smile was gorgeous, and she found herself smiling, regardless of her situation, just looking at him. He was sixteen months old.

She didn't want to smile three minutes ago, she thought she'd never do it again. But the little boy pulled one out of her. Maybe it would take time for her to warm up to Andrew and Maryellen. And she would never be ok with an arranged marriage. But she liked the little boy. And she had no doubt that he was going to keep on making her smile. Something inside told her so.

She read his name out loud.

"'Lucas Benjamin Friar'. What do we think?" She was asking just as the door to the office reopened. She turned, and there was the receptionist.

"I'm very sorry. Mr. Clark said you could have all the time you need but I'm afraid he overlooked an afternoon appointment he has. I could give you a few more minutes if you-"

"No, no. That's alright. Thank you for letting me stay for as long as I did." Katy rose slowly out of her chair, carrying the folder and her purse.

"Oh, Mr. Clark wanted me to give you a copy of that." The receptionist said, turning to go to filing cabinet. "Take your time," she called, most likely noticing that her protruding stomach was causing her to walk slowly. When she got to the receptionists desk, the lady handed her an identical folder and instructed her to leave the original 'just right here'. She was walking to the elevators when the receptionist called, "Oh, Mrs. Hart?"

Katy turned.

"You might've already read it, but according to the terms that were put into effect the children and families are suppose to meet when the youngest, which would be yours, is three years old." She said.

"Three years old? Why not just introduce us now? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?"

The receptionist- who Katy thought was called Mariah, but couldn't really see the name plate so she wasn't sure- shrugged with a sigh. "You'd think so, but no. That's the way they wanted to do it."

Katy only nodded to show she heard, but didn't say anything. She had time to think about it later.

"You have a good day Mrs. Hart."

"Thank you." And with that, she turned to the elevators and left.

Her life would never be the same from now on.


	2. Three years later

Three years later

The airport is a very busy and exciting place for a three year old. People were everywhere, and just about every second you heard beeps, whistles, clicks and the constant sound of shoes on the shiny airport floor. The large windows were a big distraction. And the different colored luggage were another. Blues, pinks, reds, checkers, stripes, each one like a billboard calling for attention.

But, to one three year old in particular-with curly blonde hair and dimples in her cheeks-there was one thing that had her attention more than anything else: Food.

Inside the tiny airport store, was a glass fridge full of different beverages. Apple juice was one of them, and it was her favorite.

The little girl smiled, already imagining the sweet, chilled liquid going over her tongue; the taste of apples bursting in her mouth.

"Mommy," she tugged on the hem of her Mother's skirt, "Mommy, I want juice, can I have?"

Her Mother, who was shuffling around in her purse mumbling to herself, glanced down at her.

"No, not this time baby cakes. Mommy is looking for something important." She said.

She took out a hair brush and held it in her mouth while she kept searching. She was becoming more frustrated by the minute, but the little girl didn't notice- she still wanted that juice.

"Pwease?"

"No. Not right now." She said, putting the brush back in her bag.

"But Mommy I want-" the little girl started, looking back at the juice.

"Maya, I said no, and that means no." Her mother said sternly, giving her a warning look.

"Ah ha! Here they are." She said to herself, bringing two pieces of folded up paper out of her purse. She took her daughter's hand.

"Come on, we have to hurry so we don't miss out flight."

Maya looked back at the juice as she walked away, her feet thudding to the ground with a sad stomp.

Katy rolled her eyes; a grin on her face. "You can have apple juice on the plane Maya-boo."

Her face lit up with a smile, "oh yay! I dwink juice on pwane." She was glad that was sorted out.

Walking through clusters of people, they looked for what Maya's Mother called, 'security check in', until they stopped at the end of a long line of people.

"Ok, we're here." Said her Mother leaning against the wall.

The line stretched on for a long time, and Maya couldn't see the end of it. She didn't know why they were in line anyway, since going under the rope dividers would've been a major short cut.

She was half tempted to slip under. Just to prove it was faster.

But she didn't.

She wasn't suppose to leave her Mother's side, and it was too early in the morning to be that curious.

An exasperated grunt from her Mother brought her out of her head. She looked up,to see her searching her purse again.

"Come on, I just had it. Maya, where did I put those pieces of paper? Did you see?" She closed her purse mid-sentence, and started checking her large coat instead.

"You had in your hand."

"I know, I know. I must've put it somewhere and now I can't-"

"Excuse me," a tall man in front of them with a big, bushy beard said.

"Is this what your looking for?" He pointed to the stroller he had with him, and inside was a toddler playing with the slips of paper. The man took them from him gently and handed them to Katy.

"Oh yes, thank you so much. I'm sorry, I keep losing them." She took the papers, and flashed Maya a smile.

"We can't get on the plane without these pumpkin."

"Why?" Maya said, draping her small body over their little suitcase. The two larger ones had gone under the plane, but to Maya it looked like they were going for a ride on that long moving belt.

"These tell the people at the terminal that we've paid for our seats. And where we're going, what time the plane takes off, when it lands. Things like that."

Maya stared at her glassy reflection in the floor, watching the crease in her eyebrows appear like it always did when she was thinking.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

She was watching her Mother's face very carefully, hoping that this time she would tell her. She'd asked twice that morning already, and everyday since learning about their trip two weeks ago, each time receiving the same answer.

Or should she say not-answer.

Her Mother always tried to steer the conversation away from her question. It was strange and unlike her. She didn't normally beat around the bush. Which made Maya think something very not-normal was going on, and she wanted to know what.

But all her Mother did was look the other way, and say "I don't know."

That can't be true, Maya thought. Mommy knows everything.

"What about the ticket?" Maya asked. "What it say?"

Her mother's hickory eyes looked over her head to a spot in the distance, without answering. Maya couldn't tell if she was really looking at something or if she was just trying to avoid eye contact.

But being only three years old, she didn't know why she'd being doing the latter. And most definitely did not guess that it had anything to do with her question.

But it was odd for her Mother to stare at a wall with a piece of gum stuck to it like it was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen.

"It's not that important," her Mother said, shrugging.

Katy's eyes skittered around for a few seconds before landing on something; her eyebrows rose the way they did when she was excited.

"Ooh, look Maya, those people have glowing jackets," She said, nodding her head that way.

Maya stood on tip toe to see, but her thoughts were still tangled around their trip.

The vests weren't all the interesting anyway.

She bet they didn't glow in the dark.

They were those ones that needed light to glow which seemed pointless to her- if she had light in the first place why would she even need the vest-but she didn't say anything.

She looked at the various screens in the airport, hoping one of them might give her a clue as to where she was going. But the screens all looked the same. Maya couldn't read so all the words didn't help at all. What she wanted was pictures, but there were only ones of food and other things people might buy. Useless.

And the food pictures only made her hungry.

At the end of the line there was a man behind a desk.

He took their tickets and pointed in the direction they were suppose to go.

Her Mother thanked him before walking that way with her.

Maya and her Mother were seated on the plane.

Maya stared, wide-eyed at the interior, taking in the squat, little windows, opening compartments overhead, and rows upon rows of identical seats.

She bounced excitedly when the plane started moving; looking out the window, giggling. And when it was on the runway, picking up speed to lift it self in the air, her little body was pressed against her seat until she felt the wheels of the plane leave the earth. She felt heavier suddenly, like the ground was trying to pull her back to it for a few seconds. It was an odd and new sensation to Maya. But her Mother didn't seem anywhere near as surprised by the feeling. Maya couldn't even tell if she felt it. It passed when the plane was high above the ground.

"Look Maya," said her Mother; she was pointing out of the window.

Maya looked. All she saw were tall building that looked far away.

"That's New York." Her Mother whispered when she still didn't know what she was looking at.

Maya let out an excited "Oh!" And pressed both hands to the window, telling her home city that she loved it and would return soon.

When she turned back around, she realized she didn't know how true that was. That she'd be back soon.

She didn't know how long they were going to be at...wherever they were going. Or when they'd come home. And where would they stay in this place? And why did Mother dislike talking about it?

All these questions, and more, swirled around in her head so fast that she wasn't sure they'd let her sleep until she had answers to them.

"Maya, here's your juice," her Mother said, interrupting her very loud thoughts.

She accepted the juice gladly, remembering how she had wanted it. It was so deliciously cold, and sweet that she completely forgot about her questions.

She did that a lot.

Her Mother smiled at her, but It wasn't as wide as it could've been. Her eyes weren't as bright as they normally were.

"What's wrong?" Maya asked.

Her Mother looked taken aback by the toddler's words, if only for a second.

"Nothing." She said. "Why, baby?"

"I don't know," Maya said, shrugging. Maybe she had imagined the sad mask behind her Mother's smile. She looked at her feet-which stuck straight out, not close to the floor at all-feeling silly for thinking something was wrong, because of course, nothing was.

Nothing ever was.

She and her Mother were completely and totally fine.

The plane had landed and Maya was now on her Mother's shoulder, walking through another airport. She must've fallen asleep during the flight.

She was disappointed that she missed the plane landing.

Her Father had told her how exhilarating it was. She didn't know what 'exhilarating' meant but, if going by the look on her father's face was any indication, it sounded right up her alley.

Then Maya felt a twinge of pain in her middle, and ducked her face deeper in her Mother's shoulder. The twinge-like a squeeze in her stomach- was something she despised, but not something she hadn't felt before.

She got it - the painful squeeze - whenever her Mother and Father fought.

And they had been fighting a lot recently; She didn't know why.

They were always quiet, arguing after Maya was suppose to be asleep.

She heard though. Her bed was just across the hall.

They would say terrible things to each other, and point fingers, and blame each other for things she didn't understand.

Oh She couldn't stand when her parents fought. She would cry so hard some nights because they would fight so long. And they looked so angry at each other. But she still didn't know why.

She figured out one thing though.

She used to think they fought about different things, But no. Now she knew that whenever her parents had a dispute it was always about the exact same thing. What, she had no clue.

But she couldn't help but think, in her little three-year-old brain, that it had something to do with her.


	3. The thing that scared the girl

When Maya was almost two, she road to the New York countryside with her grandmother. She called her 'Gammy' at the time.

She was bundled up that day, in a thick white coat, with black buttons down the middle, white leggings, and boots.

It was the middle of October. Leaves littered the ground, as if painting the brownish grass new autumn colors, and the sky was pale blue.

Maya's grandparents lived in the country, though they spent many weekends babysitting her in the city. That weekend, however, Gammy had come alone, telling of a surprise that Papa- Maya's grandfather- had planned.

Off they were that afternoon, driving out of city and into New York State, where farms and fields were abundant, and the air was more crisp and clear.

Gammy had pulled into a gravel parking lot that faced a field full of festive, fall things: Hay rides, pumpkin patches, a little train on a circular track, food trucks, and a lot of other things Maya couldn't see from her car seat. Bubbles were coming from somewhere too.

"Its a harvest festival, Maya." Gammy was grinning from ear to ear, and once they were among the many families participating in the festival, Maya was too. She was smiling so much that she lost her pacifier a time or two.

"Let's find Papa." Said Gammy.

Maya on her hip, she walked past the rides, lights, and bubbles, and headed straight to the wide expanse of tree-like stalks. At least, Maya thought they looked like trees. Granny informed her though, that it was a corn field. There was a split in the corn, like a door way that lead inside, and Papa emerged from it. He, like the two of them, wore a big grin.

"Ready for your first corn maze, Maya-girl?" He said, taking her into his arms.

He was a big man, with a graying beard, and solid arms that felt strong as steel to Maya. And he had the biggest heart too.

She thought he was talking about the corn field he'd just come from. She bounced pointing at it.

He looked. "Yeah, that's right, it's a corn maze. 'Cept that ones for big kids, care bear. Let's go over there- that's the one we're doing." He held his granddaughter with one arm, and took Gammy's hand, walking away from the field.

The kiddie maze was directly to the side of the big maze, and wasn't made of corn. Instead, it was made of hay bales, arranged to create paths-enough of an adventure for an almost-two-year-old. Maya could barely see above the hay as she walked through the maze with her grandparents, and after a while just focused on the path.

It was pretty simple- just a couple twists and bends , Maya thought. Easy to get to the other side.

So while Gammy and Papa talked, she sped up little by little, waiting for them to notice and play chase. If it was more twisty, she might've been worried about crashing into something, but since it wasn't, she continued going faster. And faster. And faster, until finally:

"Maya, look at the- Maya? Maya! get back here!"

Maya did the opposite and ran, shrill laughs escaping as Gammy and Papa chased. This was her favorite game at the time. And the cold breeze against her cheeks, and the smell of hot apple cider in the air, made it that much better.

Right then, running between the maze of hay, she would've said it was the best day ever.

But she would never call it that again.

Because as she was running, she kept looking back at her grandparents.

Had she not been looking at them, she would have noticed that she ran right out of one maze and into another. But because of her speed and her elation, she paid no mind to the vacant spot in the hay bale wall- hadn't even recognized it as a gap- and ran right out.

If you remember, the corn maze was right next to the kiddie maze. They practically touched.

So Maya wasn't loose in the festival, no. She was loose in the real corn maze with stalks over six feet high and no way of knowing where to go.

She wasn't scared. She was still focused on the game- chase. A bigger maze didn't keep her from continuing to run.

But there were other reasons why Papa didn't take Maya in the corn maze- other than it being extremely big. The reasons were called 'animated props' and 'jump-scares', which were both in the maze.

The very one Maya was in, by herself.

After a short period of time, she realized that Gammy and Papa weren't following her anymore; she started to worry.

As the sky grew dimmer, she wandered around in the corn, looking for them. But she couldn't make head or tail of the place.

It seemed like hours later that she sat down, giving up. She was hopelessly lost.

The dirt was damp, soaking into her leggings, making her shiver.

If she had been looking up from where she sat, she would've seen the prop, six feet away, whirring to life, ready to jump automatically at the next thing that moved.

But she wasn't looking up.

Maya stood, not to go anywhere, but because there was a pebble in her shoe and she wanted to take it out. The slight movement was all it took.

The prop- a scarecrow with glowing eyes, a hatchet, and mouth that appeared to be on fire- jerked toward her, swinging the plastic weapon in a feebly, mechanical sort of way, and she screamed.

Even years after, she couldn't remember a time when she was more scared.

She scrambled away, shrieking in fright, running until she couldn't any longer. She had hid, shaking under some slightly bent corn stalks until someone found her.

Papa.

Maya was so relieved to see him, so glad to finally be safe, that she clung to his coat collar and would not let go.

She'd only been in the maze half an hour, but two years later, she still had bad dreams about it, and would wake up terrified, her heart beating fast.

She loathed to think about anything associated with that dreadful half hour at the fall festival.

So when Katy- talking on the hotel phone, bright and early in the morning- said two words to the person on the other end, Maya paled.

Because her mother said the two words she most despised hearing together. They made her skin sweat, and her throat instantly dry with fear- like she couldn't breath.

The words were 'Corn Maze'.

And Katy had just announced that she and Maya would love to participate.

Maya wished she could disappear.


	4. The woman in blue

"How many tickets, ma'am?" Maya heard person in the red ticket booth yawn.

"Two." Katy answered, sifting through her purse for her wallet.

Maya stood, back against the ticket booth, staring out at the commotion of the festival with a frown.

She tried everything she could think of and yet she still wound up there.

She was sure throwing the housekeeper's feather duster in the toilet would've worked, or at least bought her some time to think of a new plan. But it was futile. When all the clocks in the state chimed five, she was whisked into the car by her mother, and off they went to that cursed place.

She didn't even like corn.

Katy was handed two orange tickets through the window of the booth. She pocketed them, wearing a half smile.

She always smiled like that when she was doing something she didn't want to do.

Maya had no idea why her mother was pretending to be happy about it at all. If neither of them wanted to be there, then they could pack up and leave. Problem solved.

Maya didn't want to be there, and she wasn't trying to hide it.

She smelled the maze before she saw it. The sickly sweet smell of rotting corn and mud assaulted her nose, and she clamped her hand over it. When they came to the entrance, she skidded to a stop.

The corn shucks hung down like craggy, uncombed hair, or fingers reaching for those going in. Wind rustled the stalks, knocking the decorations- lights and hanging pumpkins-around like chimes, warning her to turn back. Mud showed footprints of those who dared to enter.

She was suddenly jittery, a memory of the fire-eyed scarecrow flashed in her mind, replaying over, and over, as she stared into the maze.

If her mother had not called her, she wouldn't have seen the woman in blue.

"Maryellen!" Shouted her mother.

Just like that, she jumped from being afraid to intensely curious. It was normal for a child her age.

"Maryellen!" Called her mother again.

A women not far from them turned at the shout. Her eyes- blue as her hat- meeting Katy, and then Maya. Her lips formed into smile, lighting up her face like she was happy.

Maya felt as though she'd seen it- the smile- before.

"Katy!" The woman said. She walked over with her hand extended. "How nice to meet you in person."

She looked again to Maya, who stared, eyes narrowed in thought. She had seen that smile somewhere. But when?

"This," Katy touched the top of her head, "is Maya."

"Hello," Said the woman, "I'm Mrs. Friar."

There was something about her that tickled the three year old's mind and she couldn't put her finger on what.

It was like that itch in her brain she got when her parents fought and she was desperate to find out why. She felt like she was just on the brink of figuring it out.

The woman laughed, shaking her head. Her blue earrings swung.

"Not in the mood for talking yet, huh?"

Maya looked at her mother, not remembering that Mrs. Friar had spoken before.

"I'm sorry- she's never this shy usually." Said Katy, brushing a hair out of the little girl's eye.

The woman- Mrs. Friar- waved her hand dismissively. Even her nails were painted blue.

"Don't worry about it. She just needs a second to warm up. I am a stranger to her after all."

Maya didn't pay attention to the corn, decorations, or footprints when they all walked into the maze together. Her eyes watched Mrs. Friar, searching for that something she couldn't put a name to. It was eating at her brain.

And suddenly, from a simple gesture, she knew.

She didn't jump up and down. She didn't shriek. She just kind of realized.

It was when Mrs. Friar's hands had went to her neck, tugging on the satin bow that kept her hat on. She undid the bow, and holding the blue hat in her mouth, brought her long, thick hair out of the elastic, until it spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

It was familiar.

That was the thing Maya was searching for. Something familiar, like Mrs. Friar's hair, to help her figure it out.

Her hair, her eyes, her smile, all of it.

Maya had seen it before.

———————————

It was a cloudy, rainy morning when she first saw Maryellen's picture.

She couldn't go to daycare or to the park because of the rain, and had spent all day at her mother's job.

She liked the people there. They were always nice to her, patting her little head when they walked by, the anxious looks on their faces disappearing for a second. But the thrill of being at the Nighthawk Diner did get old after an hour or two. By hour four, Maya wandered around into the break room, spinning in the one desk chair, and drawing on her hands with highlighter pens. Satisfied with the wobbly flowers, and scribbles on her fingers, Maya decided to look through the cubbies.

It was just like at daycare.

Everyone had their own cubby with his or her things in it. Most of them were up high where she couldn't reach, but one purse- black in color with shiny buttons- was just on the edge, where her fingers could touch.

She pinched the very corner of the bag with her thumb and index finger, pulling it down in one tug. The contents poured out onto her, and the floor.

It reminded her of confetti, and she picked the things up and threw them again, all of it clattering to the floor as she giggled.

If her mother had a better paying job- in an office somewhere, or behind a desk- someone may have heard everything in Katy's purse fall on the ground. But there was no chance of that here. Way too noisy in the kitchen to hear something all the way in the break room.

When she was done playing "confetti", Maya picked through her mother's things, examining each one with fascination.

"Ooh." She opened a make-up compact and stared at her reflection in the powder covered mirror.

"Hi." She said to herself.

When she'd gone through everything, she went back to the bag itself, which had laid on the floor until then. She picked up her foot to step inside.

She often put herself in the bag for her own amusement. When both feet were inside, she realized not everything had fallen out.

Granted, most of it did, but a little yellow folder was left. She picked it up and looked it over, contemplating whether or not she should examine it like the rest. Finally, she climbed out of the bag, sitting on the floor. She had plenty of time anyways.

Maya opened it like a story book, and frowned at the first few pages. They were just full of words. Skipping them, she found the pictures. First was a man, who looked kind enough in Maya's opinion. He wasn't exactly smiling nor frowning. Didn't look happy nor sad.

The next one was much more interesting.

A woman stared back at Maya from the picture with a dazzling smile. It made a grin spread on the little girl's face. She looked like she made cookies all the time, and Maya decided she really liked her.

She had just turned the page when her mother walked in. She exclaimed and took the folder, stuffing it back in her purse even as Maya reached for it.

All she got to see was a pair of eyes- blue as the sea, yet green as grass- on a smiling baby. Katy hid the folder after that, never mentioning it, or showing it to her daughter ever again.

————————

Of course something tragic had to happen when Maya was least expecting it. Of course it did.

She was actually enjoying the walk through the maze, with her Mother and Mrs. Friar. She was proving her fears wrong. There was nothing scary about this maze, she thought.

She was having a good time, just like her mother said she would.

Then it all went wrong.

Maya found a blue crayon in a footprint on the ground. Whoever made the footprint couldn't have been much bigger than she was, but there was a pattern of a dinosaur left made the print stand out. Her shoes didn't make dinosaur prints.

She ran a few steps to catch up with the women, still holding the crayon in her hands. She thought it looked like Mrs. Friar-who was wearing a lot of blue- and was smiling at it when the boy ran into her, and pushed her to the ground.

Her mother shrieked at the same time Mrs. Frair shouted, "Brody!"

Maya hadn't even blinked before hands grabbed at hers, pulling roughly, and someone was screaming, "It's mine! It's mine! Give it back!"

Then she realized he was looking for the crayon. Her crayon. She frowned, and tugged as hard as she could.

"No!" She shrieked. She pulled with one hand, and swatted at his face with the other.

He was taller thank her, and stronger. Strong enough that when he when he tugged hard he pulled her across the dirt. Her legs burned from friction, but she wouldn't let go. And then she left the ground, the crayon falling, as her mother scooped her up.

"No! No! No! Mine!" She wriggled in Katy's arms, still trying to swat the boy and get the crayon.

"Maya." She scolded.

Maryellen had grabbed the boy's shoulders, pulling him away, his face still red from fighting. "Brody, I'm surprised at you. Rough housing with a little thing like Maya. I'm going to tell your father, do you hear me?"

Brody's face softened into something a lot less menacing, but he nodded finally dropping his head.

Mrs. Friar sighed heavily. "You owe Mrs. Hart an apology."

The look in the boy's eye said he didn't want to. But he dragged his feet over to Katy, who was holding Maya to keep her from hitting him.

"Sorry Mrs. Hart." He mumbled.

"And Maya." Said Maryellen.

He looked over at the girl, put on a mocking smile, and said, "Sorry Maya." Then he revealed the blue crayon he was hiding in his hand, and he dangled it in front of her.

Maya, filled with new anger, threw her hands out at him so her pointer finger scratched his forehead. Just as quickly as she was let down, she was picked up again, and Maryellen had Brody by the strap of his overalls.

Then she did something truly awful.

She took the crayon from Brody and tossed it. The thing landed between them, where neither could reach. Then they both began to cry.

Katy and Maryellen sighed again- both embarrassed by the whole thing- then Maryellen looked to her left and said something. Maya slowed her tantrum, wiping her eyes, so she could see.

Maryellen was talking to a man. One hand was on her head, the other was holding Brody, who still cried over the crayon.

Seeing him reminded her of her reason for a tantrum. Before she could start up again she heard someone say, "Stop!"

She looked, and there, between her and Brody, was a boy slightly older than the both of them. He had eyes blue as the sea, and green as grass.

He picked up the blue crayon for them both to see, then broke it in half. He gave one half to Brody, turned and gave the other half to Maya.

But Brody immediately protested, kicking his legs, whining loudly. People who walking through the maze turned around when they heard all the noise.

"What?" Asked the little boy.

Brody's mouth was open in a cry as he pointed at Maya's crayon half.

"No. It's hers." Said the boy with the green-blue eyes.

When Brody wouldn't stop, Maryellen and the man said, "It's ok." And the man opened his mouth to put a stop to it. But the boy asked him wait, and scurried to Maya. He held his hand out to her, palm up.

Maya looked at her crayon half, then at his hand.

"Mine?"

The boy shook his head, gesturing for her to give it to him. Her mother cleared her throat, and Maya dropped it.

"Good job, Maya." Katy said. She set her on the ground.

Maya frowned, stomping her foot. She didn't like the little boy with the blue-green eyes. And she didn't like Brody being so happy about his crayon when she didn't have one.

The breeze rustled her hair, smelling like things roasted over fire, and cider. The adults all apologized to one another, their voices overlapping each other as they walked the rest of the way out of the maze.

Stars shone brightly above as they walked to their car. The Friar's and Brody- who was Maryellen's nephew, Maya learned- walked beside them, talking with Katy, making plans, sharing smiles.

The little boy who broke the crayon- their son- smiled at her as she rested her cheek on her mother. She didn't smile back.

"Again, we're very sorry for the fight, Katy." Said the woman in blue- Maryellen.

"No harm done. Besides, they're okay now." She smiled.

"Well," Maryellen clapped once. "We'll see each other tomorrow for lunc

Katy bounced Maya. "We'll see you then."

Maya didn't see it, but the man- Maryellen's husband- leaned down to whisper something to their son. He nodded quickly, and climbed into their car, rummaging around.

"Hold on. He has something he wants to give her." The man said to Katy.

The little boy skittered out of the car, hand enclosed around something, and held it up to Maya, whose back was turned. He tapped her foot, and she looked just as he opened his palm.

Inside was a blue crayon.

She smiled widely, grabbing the crayon, and holding it close. "Thanks." She said. He smiled back.

"Ok, say goodnight buddy." Maryellen was putting a sleeping Brody in his car seat.

He looked at Maya again, and her mother.

"Goodnight Maya, and Mrs. Hart." He said.

Katy told Maya to do the same.

"Night-night Mr. an Mrs. Fwiar ." She lisped her way through the sentence.

"Night-night boy."she said looking at the him.

"Lucas." Her mother said.

"Night-night Lucas." Maya said.

He waved as his car pulled off, and she waved back until the car was out of sight.


End file.
